


Cold, wet, and happy

by sageness



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Canon - Comics, Multi, Polyamory, Threesome - F/M/M, robins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-29
Updated: 2010-05-29
Packaged: 2017-10-09 19:04:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/90542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sageness/pseuds/sageness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's May and she's back and she's free and Gotham City in the springtime still smells worse than at any other time of year, what with the sudden rot hitting all the garbage long frozen for the winter, but Steph doesn't care.  She's <em>back</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold, wet, and happy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rubynye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/gifts).



> Prompt: Rubynye wanted Dick, Steph, and Tim &amp; the "wet new wind of May".
> 
> Notes: generally disregards canon; this is the first of the poly ficlets I took prompts for here.

It's May and she's back and she's _free_ and Gotham City in the springtime still smells worse than at any other time of year, what with the sudden rot hitting all the garbage long frozen for the winter, but Steph doesn't care. She's _back_. She shoots a jumpline and flies toward the Narrows. Not much going down for midnight on a Tuesday – but it's been rainy and gross all day, so things are relatively quiet.

Relatively. In the distance, St. Vincent's cathedral is all lit up, the stained glass glowing twenty different colors in the rain-streaked night. The basement kitchen is full of homeless people and the low brick alcoves in the alley behind are sheltering junkies thrown out for being too violent – too much a danger to the kids the priests are trying vainly to protect. Steph hunkers down like a gargoyle, like a bat, to watch. She can't let herself go far until the violent ones pass out or go away. With the rain coming down, though – she maybe the priests can keep the kids inside. Free soup, a dry sleeping bag on the floor. Time passes and she almost misses the sound – a soft thud, a scrape of boots on gravel. Tensing, she shifts her weight into a fighting stance, since at four hundred feet up, it'll either be someone awesome or no one she wants to see at all, and then a blue-black shape resolves itself, and Nightwing's face comes out of the rain.

"Slow night?" he says. She relaxes her body and his hands find her shoulders, glove texture stuttering against wet armored fabric. His hands feel amazing. He's warm, too, and she burrows close into his arms without anything like shyness. It's _cold_ up here, and windy, and she's back and he is, too. Also, he smells really freaking good.

"Slow, cold, wet, quiet – I don't mind the quiet, to be honest." He rubs his lips across her cowl and she turns her head to give him skin. He's got scratchy stubble but soft lips, and his mouth tastes like coffee, just like it used to. "Missed you," she says, deepening the kiss, remembering how he'd shown up out of the blue to coach her in Robin 101 after it became clear Bruce and Tim were both too messed up to do the job right. He nudges a little closer, somehow, and they stand there, making out in the cold rain on an ugly soot-streaked ledge for, oh, call it three and a half minutes before a new sound drags her attention away from the ridiculous hotness that is Dick Grayson, who is suddenly smiling fit to light up the night.

Steph turns her head and Robin's cape is fluttering not ten feet away, all slick heavy black and gold. In the rain, it gets heavy enough to use as a weapon itself – she knows from brief experience – and yet he isn't moving. Idiot. "Boyfriend!" she thrusts out a hand toward him. "Oh my god, will you get over here, already?" Tim's eyebrows do their typical quirk and she rolls her eyes, not that he can tell, but she plants her hand on her hip and beckons. He takes a step and stops, eyes on Dick. Dick looks at Steph and does his own eyebrow thing. She sighs. "Don't be more ridiculous than you are adorable."

Then Tim is in her space, like instantly, and if she didn't know better she would have thought he could freaking fly. The kiss is long, hard, and Dick's body is awesomely firm against her back. "Missed you," he says into her ear, and she holds on, suddenly too full of memory, too full of the old days, with the two of them leaping across rooftops together when the Bat was away in space or whatever and Nightwing was in Blüdhaven. Her Tim.

Dick is shifting against her back and she realizes with a thrill that he and Tim are kissing over her shoulder. Dick has one arm holding her in place and the other is wrapped securely around Tim's shoulder, palming the back of his head. Steph figures it's a good time to bite the side of Tim's neck, which she does, careful to aim above the gorget in the cape's collar. He quivers in their arms for a moment and Steph knows from the slack look on his face that behind his mask, his eyes are closed. When he stills, she turns her head to claim another kiss from Dick, and wow, they are so perfectly on the same page. It is going to be awesome.

She presses back against Dick's body, pulling Tim along with her, and she grins from one to the other. "Okay, so first thing, all three of us are going to be in the same city for a while, right? Because that has to happen for this to happen, and we are all too good together to keep missing out on this." Behind her, Dick's actually backed up to the masonry, so he isn't going anywhere. She's got her left arm wrapped around Tim's waist, though, just in case he freaks like the Boy Numbskull he used to be.

Neither of them answers, and for a minute it's like Tim and Dick have forgotten who they've been together for the last – what, four? – years. But then Dick kisses Tim again and she can feel his body responding. She can feel both of them, practically vibrating with urgency for each other. "Steph's back," Dick says.

"Damned right," she echoes. "Dirty, stinky, rainy Gotham. It's my kind of town."

Tim cracks a grin. "Girlfriend." It comes out soft, but not hesitant.

"That's me," she answers.

"Little brother," Dick says, stroking Tim's cheekbone with his thumb.

"That's me," Tim answers.

"So you're both going to stay." She doesn't make it a question.

"I am," Dick says with certainty. "New York was..." he trails off and finally decides on an unconvincing, "good...but I need to be back here for a while."

Tim nods. Then he strokes his hands up Steph's body from hip to shoulder, and then he strokes down Dick's from shoulder to – she's not sure, but from the angle, she thinks he's groping Dick's ass. "I've been looking at apartments. Or, you know, buildings."

Steph grins, imagining the kind of lair Tim would design for himself, and she and Dick both try to kiss him at once. Laughing, they keep at it for a minute – no, a minute forty-five – and that's when Steph notices the rain has stopped. She slips out from between them, eyes on the cathedral, the alley, the trash-strewn churchyard. Any second now, some jackhole is going to come along rolling homeless guys for their shoes. Any freaking second.

She hears the weird, high-pitched, near absence of sound that means Oracle's talking in Nightwing's ear, and at once the three of them are on the job, professional, if still completely inside each other's personal space.

"Hostage call," Dick says, and flies, just like that.

Tim pulls a tiny radio transceiver out of one of his nine million pockets and offers it to her. "If you want back in..." Now he does sound hesitant.

"Bat sanctioned and everything?" she asks.

He shrugs. "Things are different now. I think we can figure out a plan that will work for all of us."

She slips it into her ear and they spend a moment discussing channels before she cups his face in her hands and kisses him, as long and sweet as she knows how. "Missed you so much, Boyfriend."

Tim's face softens. "Me, too."

"I still." She presses a hand over his heart, and his cheeks go a little pink. "And you and Dick." She makes it sound as lascivious as she can, joking because she knows – they've both told her, after all, how much they love each other – and he blushes even harder. "So adorable," she says happily.

He shakes his head, still pink, like he doesn't know what to do with her. But then the any second she was waiting for comes due. There's movement and a telltale scrape of metal against concrete. She doesn't say goodbye – there's never been time for goodbye – she just launches a line and goes.

In her ear, he says, "Call if you need me."

"Will do," she says, adrenaline rush meeting a flood of purest joy.

"R out."

She's sanctioned. She's got asses to kick now and practical things to work out later, but that's all totally doable. For the moment: she lands, runs, and kicks. The thief falls into a puddle, cursing, and as she kicks him a second time, laughing up into the mud-colored night sky, it starts to rain again.


End file.
